2011. The beginning of the shit dreams are made of.
Many of you (again, all 5 of you) already know my affinity with the number 11. Plenty of my friends still get a text message at 11:11, I still celebrate the 11th of each month, and November has always been a game-changer in my life (this year; The Monkey flipped formats on 11/10, thus; 11/11 was another monumental day for many). But I have to give credit where credit is due...
It all started on January 1, 2010 (1/1/10, there's an 11 in there somewhere). It was a trip to Eugene, OR: the birthplace of Micky Loomis, the 'anarchist capital of the world,' the home of the late-Steve Prefontaine, and Nike co-founder "Uncle" Phil Knight. The University of Oregon Ducks were facing off against the Ohio State Buckeyes for the 2010 Rose Bowl in California, & a group of friends & myself decided to make the seven-hour drive to be a part of the festivities. (video proof here) It didn't turn out how we expected, but nothing ever does with a group like that, and especially not when the Gods of Destiny were in control.
Now I'd be lying if I said I wasn't the same kid returning from the trip as I was before I left. Over the course of two days spent in a Ford Escape, waking up on a shitty hotel floor in downtown Eugene, and destroying a city fence... it was a new year. It was a fresh start. I had big hopes for myself & my radio show 2010, & an extreme-hangover of biblical proportions to match it. In the course of the first hour's worth of the drive to Oregon, we had all collectively decided that we wouldn't make a single decision unless everyone was in favor. No wishy-washyness, no bitch-ass-ness, and no half-assed effort. You're all-in, or you're all-out, therefore we're all-in, or we're all-out.
We googled a shitty hotel, called & booked it for the night, then decided we needed to find a casino. We all felt good about The Lucky Eagle (it just sounded tough), & we decided to each put a $20 bill on a single play of roulette. Since roulette is a one-person per-play casino game, we had to pick one person to 'play' on behalf of all of us. Once it was settled, he (Martin) pushed our stack of $100 chips onto the "Black" section of the table once we felt it was time to make our play. The dealer gracefully tucked the ball in the inner-ring of the wheel & gave it a flick. Round & round that little steel ball went carrying on it our excitement (and money) until finally, trickling down into the small pockets where it would eventually come to rest, comfortably, on a black square. We had just doubled our $100 to $200 & immediately cashed-out (in $1 bills of course). The black square that just paid us $200 was the number 11. The Lucky Eagle was our bitch. Thanks for the free money.
From that moment on, the number 11 was literally around every corner. We couldn't fill up with fuel, buy beer, or take an exit off the freeway without having the number 11 involved, and it has continued until this very day. We woke up the next morning with exactly $55 left over ($11 per-person for Portland's "Acropolis" steak-house/titty-bar). The number eleven itself is sort of an echoing, dissonant, iconic, and integral number of many things in the world (google "11 dimensions of reality"). Did I mention that our hotel was on 11th street? It wasn't a coincidence.
The year is now 2011, & I encourage you to start noticing the amount of 11's that you start to see, and when you do - remember this story of destiny, friendship, and new beginnings. Make 2011 your bitch, and don't be surprised when I text you a random "11:11" someday. Great things come in pairs, and when those things are the number "1", it's just double-awesome. But don't take my word for it - ask "Dr. Double" --- Edgar Martinez, himself.
Cheers to new beginnings, and a year's worth of having "11" in the date. I don't know what I'm going to be doing at 11:11 on 11/11/11, but I should probably kill an Eagle or something (kidding). I hope this is your year, my year, and all of our years. Destiny wouldn't have it any other way.